


The Characteristics of Captain Ahab

by MaK



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 17:52:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2661044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaK/pseuds/MaK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fanfiction in which Kanaya has the hots for her English teacher.</p><p>(tbh i just needed to get this idea out of my system so i can focus on my other fic lol)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Characteristics of Captain Ahab

English class has gotten perpetually harder in the past few weeks. Your older sister pointed your report card and glared, demanding an answer for how your B turned into a low C, but you couldn't quite figure out an appropriate response. Karkat constantly scowls at you during the forty-five minute period, as if daring you to look at anything but your assignment. You always do, though. That's what you problem is. How can you _possibly_ focus on a report about the dynamics of Moby Dick when you could just gawk at the beauty of your teacher? That's what you like to call it, anyway: gawking at her beauty. Really, you're just ogling her.

"Your taste in women is so bad it makes me want to fucking barf," Karkat whispered, practically slamming his fists on the desk. You bit the back of your pencil and looked out the corner of your eye, he doesn't even need to look where you're staring to know. Turning away, he shook his head and groaned quietly in exasperation. "Miss Lalonde isn't even that fucking hot, Kanaya. Jesus Christ."

You had looked back at him and angrily pouted. What did he know about beauty?

It doesn't bother you that much, though. You don't care that your grade is slipping or that pretty much everyone in the school knows you want to get it on with the teacher. Karkat can kick and scream all he wants, but you're still going to find a way to get with Miss Lalonde. She's only twenty-three and practically fresh out of college and you're turning eighteen tomorrow. You haven't been excited for a birthday since you turned thirteen. You've practically been counting down the hours.

Laying in bed and staring up at the ceiling of your room, you begin to diverge a plan on how your birthday will go. Of course, your older sister and your friends will probably want to throw some kind of party, but you can deal with that later. English is your last class of the day and nobody will notice if you stay after school for a bit. In your imagination, Miss Lalonde would stop you just before you left the room - you're always the last one out - and ask something like, "I saw that it was your birthday today while taking attendance. How old are you turning, Kanaya?" and you would smoothly respond that you're _legal_. Then, she would say something along the lines of, "Oh, really?" Ultimately, you're hoping this scenario leads to her sitting on your face or anything like that. 

Karkat had nearly screamed, "how the fuck would that _ever_ work out, Kanaya?" and was pretty grossed out with the whole idea in the first place. Terezi was one of the few of your friends who was actually amused by the topic, enough to give you a high-five. Sollux wished you the best of luck and Vriska had seemed confused and bothered by the topic. In response to all this, Karkat mimed barfing and left the room.

It doesn't matter. Tomorrow, right after school ends, you're going to have sex with your teacher. And then you can maybe focus on getting your grade up.

But, what if you _didn't_? Biting your lip, you imagine one of those cheesy naughty student and seductive teacher scenarios while drowsily rolling around in bed. You would definitely kneel over a desk for Rose Lalonde. At this point, the woman could tell you to eat chalk and you would probably do that, too. _Hell_ , you'd do just about anything to get in her skirt.

\---

At school, you spend most of the day tapping your foot and biting at the end of your pencil while waiting for English class to roll around. Plenty of people have wished you happy birthday; Vriska was the first, exclaiming somewhat awkwardly, "eighteen, huh? Guess you're legal now, right?" and then offered a wink. There's probably more to read into that, but you're far too busy to worry about Vriska's problems when you've got plenty of your own to worry about. _Rose Lalonde_ , you think to yourself, absently writing down math notes. Rooose Lalonde... wouldn't that sound great spilling out of your mouth while she bends you over her desk? 

Eagerly, you bite the back of your pencil and stare up at the clock. The bell will ring any second now and then you'll only have to endure the last forty-five minutes of English before you can have Miss Lalonde all to yourself. Karkat slaps your desk the same moment the bell rings, glaring down at you before stomping off. You grin. 

As always, you're the first one in the classroom. Your desk is right at the very front, which was awarded to you after lying about having bad sight but not being able to afford glasses. Miss Lalonde is sitting at her desk, reviewing and marking last week's papers on the characteristics of Captain Ahab. Your paper is currently unfinished and stuffed somewhere alongside all your other English assignments. While students filter in, you spend your time studying the angles of her face and find yourself enamored with her beauty. How the hell does someone so hot become a teacher? Truly, this must be some kind of cruel joke. She obviously belongs in a much more appropriate job. She obviously deserves to _sit on your fucking face before you go insane_.

The bell rings. It signifies the beginning of the hardest forty-five minutes of your life. 

After a few moments, Miss Lalonde stands up from her desk and walks over to the podium at the front of the class, starting attendance. She goes through the alphabet and _finally_ gets to the M's. Firstly, "Makara?" he's gone, he always is. And then, "Maryam?" 

"Yes," you say, clearly and as steadily as possible.

She looks over at you and smiles, quirking her brow inquisitively. "It's your birthday today, right? How old are you turning?" 

" _Legal_ ," you look at her and smirk. 

Just as the moment of accomplishment comes over you, Karkat's voice comes from somewhere behind you in a muttered, "oh my fucking god." The realization that you've announced this in front of your entire class, rather than just to her, strikes you like a lightning bolt. Sollux and Terezi are snickering and you quickly look away from your teacher, your face suddenly feeling a lot hotter than it was before. You did not miss her astonished expression, though. With that placed on top of your already mounting feeling of embarrassment, you try and accept that you probably messed up your plan. _Goddammit._

The next forty-two minutes is a lot harder than you originally thought it would be. She doesn't even comment on your missing assignments like she usually does. You can't even bring yourself to look up from your desk. Instead, you scribble all over your notebook; partially just random words that might have some correlation to what Miss Lalonde is saying, but you're mostly trying to see if you can draw her eyes from memory. You don't dare to look her in the eye, but you already have the basic shape down anyway. You also don't have the courage to even lift your head to look at the clock, so you're not sure just how fast time is passing. For the first time in English class, you're praying for the bell to ring any minute. 

Of course, it doesn't. You listen to Miss Lalonde talk about Captain Ahab and the grammar mistakes made by your peers while you try and count down the seconds. Eventually, some higher beings do bless you with the godforsaken sound of the bell. You're nearly halfway to the door when your teacher calls out, "Kanaya," which is her sign for you to promptly sit back in your desk. You can feel Karkat glaring at you while he leaves; you run your fingers through your hair and inwardly groan at yourself. She's probably going to reprimand you for being so inappropriate and not doing your work when you're supposed to. 

The last student shuts the door when they leave, the clicking sound leaving the silence in the room to feel even heavier than it is. You still don't look at her. Staring at the wall has suddenly become your new favorite pass time, as well as nervously messing up your own hair without even ruining it. Maybe, if you stare at this wall hard enough, you can beam a hole right through it and see into a new universe entirely. A universe where you didn't blurt out a pathetic attempt at an innuendo in front of your entire class. 

"Kanaya," she says again, so you practically have to look at her. Your eyes meet for a total of two seconds before you just stare at her stomach, gnawing at your lip and blushing furiously. This was not how you planned for this to go at all. "As an authoritative figure in the school and a supposed role model for young adults such as yourself, I'm obligated to ask you a question," she pauses. You can feel her eyes on you. "What was that remark you made at the beginning of class supposed to mean?"

Swallowing and clearing your throat, you make a lame attempt at meeting her eyes again before looking down at the floor. "Well, you know," you try, hoping that some of the usual snark the two of you share might get you out of this conversation entirely. "I was only... replying to your inquiry about the age of which I was going to become. To which I said what is true about turning the allegedly golden age of eighteen..." you trail off, twisting a strand of hair around your finger. Someone could light your face on fire and there would literally be no difference in the temperature of which you are feeling.

"And, Kanaya, what is this alleged truth about making the eighteenth rotation around the sun?" she starts to tap her foot and you watch her black slip on bounce up and down. She _sounds_ like she's grinning, but you can't be too sure. At least one of you is finding some amusement in this idiotic disaster that is you.

Taking a deep breath, you quickly breathe out, "becoming legal. I'm legal." It all rushes into a conjunction of consonants and is likely the least elegant thing that has ever left your mouth, you wouldn't be surprised if she didn't understand a word of it.

Luckily, you English teacher is merciful enough to not make you repeat what is undoubtably the most embarrassing sentence you've ever said. Instead, she starts, "You know, when I first started college, I had intentions of becoming a therapist. In fact, I currently have a minor in psychology." Prompted, you look back up at her, meeting what you can only assume to be a bit of a condescending smirk. Seeing as you're a little lost with the sudden information, you don't respond, but your clueless expression must be enough of a hint for her to continue. "Basically, I'm pretty good at reading people based off of their actions. Body language, word choice, expression... it all leads to a simple conclusion," she says, crossing her arms. 

"Yes?" you ask, quirking your brow. This bizarre lecture really needs to stop.

Miss Lalonde takes a step closer to your desk and you feel the need to dash away, but it seems that your body is practically glued to this desk. You entertain the idea of actually just molding into the desk and becoming an inanimate object. "If my years of college have taught me anything worthwhile," she leans down and crosses her arms, leaning against your desk and also giving you a great look at her cleavage. _Fuck._ "Then I'd like to assume that your patent looks during class and the Freudian slip you let out not too long ago all chalk up to a single answer." Miss Lalonde raises her eyebrow again, moving slightly closer to you. If her face gets any closer to yours, she'll be able to feel the heat of your blush.

Finding your mouth to be a bit dry, you spend a moment awkwardly staring at her before asking, "and that answer would be..?" you're not entirely excited to hear it. You're waiting for a long paragraph in which the word pervert and multiple synonyms of the word will be tossed in your direction.

"I'm waiting," she says.

You stare in her eyes, pointedly doing your best not to look down her shirt, and feel more confused than before. _Waiting for what?_ What's there to wait for? Surely there's a detention slip with your name on it somewhere nearby. Or maybe she's waiting for you to pull out all your unfinished homework and get your grade to a respectable level. 

At a total loss, you end up continuing to look at her. Really, how are you supposed to be thinking _at all_ when her face is literally only a few inches from yours? How are you supposed to... you squint, still very confused but arriving to an answer that might make a little more sense than none. Alternatively, the answer maybe the worst one you have come up with yet. 

Leaning all of a few centimeters closer to her, you check her face to see any sort of reaction. You wait to see if she moves away, but Miss Lalonde only smirks and you think that you _may_ know what you're doing for once. Ceasing the moment while you can, you lean your head to the side and move in the last few inches, only closing your eyes at the last moment. Her lips are warm and you're embarrassed about the small sound you make as you feel this. You pull away sooner than you really want to, but you're anxious to see how she's going to react and can't help but be excited, if a little nervous. 

Her eyes open a second after you pull away. You feel an inkling of satisfaction when you spy the red on her cheeks, though it still no competition against the color on your own face. She smirks and you feel like melting, "that's what I thought." 

You have _no_ idea what that's supposed to mean, but you've spent the last few weeks of English class being perpetually confused, so this is no surprised. Instead of saying anything remotely intelligent to her, you just blurt out, "Fuck me," and pray that gets the message across. Miss Lalonde backs away and, for a moment, you're terrified that you've broken the moment, but she only walks away to lock the door, which makes you quite a bit happier. In fact, you're feeling a little giddy, now. "Really?" you ask, getting up out of your desk.

Miss Lalonde shrugs with a grin on her face. "Well, you _are_ legal," she reiterates, which doesn't help to make you feel all the warmer. "Besides, you're also exceptionally beautiful and I can't deny a pretty lady what she wants." You'd like to say the same to her, but you're sure it would come out like, _You're extremely hot and sometimes I get off at night to the thought of you slapping my ass with a ruler_ , and she doesn't need to hear anything about that. Seeing as you can't depend upon your skills in speech, you just walk over to her and kiss her again, setting the pads of your fingertips against the line of her jaw. 

She's quite a bit shorter than you, but you don't mention this. Her tongue rolls over your bottom lip and she's obviously more experienced with this than you are, which makes you a little more excited than it should, considering that it shouldn't make you excited at all. You part your lips and try to figure out how anyone can be titled a 'good kisser' when the only logic in this situation is to move your tongue against hers. It certainly feels amazing - you never saw yourself describing someone else's tongue in your mouth as _amazing_ , but here you are. At one point, Miss Lalonde trails you into her mouth, which continues to be a similarly odd and enjoyable experience. She bites down lightly and you _definitely_ didn't think you'd call that hot, but it brings a moan out of your throat. 

She pulls away and smirks, "perhaps you should go sit on a desk, Kanaya." Though it's in the form of a suggestion, she's _commanding_ you to do something and that just about makes your knees buckle. You do as she says, sitting just on the edge, and she takes care to help you remove the sweater your wearing, but goes back to kissing you before getting rid of your button up. It's a little overwhelming, having your teacher bite at your tongue and so casually overpower you, to the point where you're practically _dumbstruck_ , leaving you to grasp at the fabric of her shirt a little desperately. Luckily, Miss Lalonde doesn't seem to give a shit.

**Author's Note:**

> not entirely finished but i stayed up until six in the morning to write it sooo?? idk if enough people want me to ill try and write an actual ending in which they... frick


End file.
